


Whole

by Idicted



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Hurt Spock (Star Trek), Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 03:59:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16611518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idicted/pseuds/Idicted
Summary: One shot: This was not supposed to happen. They were on Earth, Earth was supposed to be safe.





	Whole

Leonard McCoy was running. No, he was _sprinting_ , moving faster than he ever had in his life, shoving people out of the way, his speed accelerating as he raced down one of San Francisco’s steep streets.

 

This was not supposed to happen, he thought as he skidded around a corner. They were on _Earth_ , not somewhere out in space. Earth was supposed to be _safe_.

 

Lungs burning, he rounded another corner and almost collided with two policemen standing in front of a set of metal barriers put up to keep the gathering crowd away from the site that until an hour ago had held the San Francisco Institute for Particle Research.

 

“Sir, you cannot pass through here,” one of the officers told McCoy as the doctor prepared to climb the barrier. “Sir,” he repeated, grabbing McCoy by the shoulders and pulling him back, “this is a restricted area.”

 

“I’m a doctor,” McCoy barked. “Let me through, let me help.”

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” the officer replied, “but we have been instructed not to let anyone pass, it’s not safe.”

 

McCoy desperately grabbed onto the top of the safety barrier, peering over it to where the emergency services had gathered. Medics were setting up a tent and fire-fighters decked out in helmets, carried ropes and heavy equipment. He closed his eyes but the image before him was imprinted on his brain, his mind mercilessly recounting the facts:

 

While the Enterprise was docked in space port, the crew were free to spend their time as they wished. Spock had beamed down to San Francisco early each morning for the past week to conduct some experiments at the Institute for Particle Research, which possessed equipment not available on the Enterprise. McCoy had not been impressed with the Vulcan’s idea of shore leave but had been reconciled by the fact that Spock restricted his research to mornings. They had met up for lunch every day and then spent the afternoon and the night together, enjoying the city.

 

Today, McCoy had been waiting for Spock at their agreed lunch spot but the Vulcan had not shown up. _Spock was never late_. McCoy had waited for 10 minutes and then tried Spock’s communicator. _Nothing_. At that moment a breaking news story had popped up on the screens at the café where the doctor was sitting.

 

+++ A sinkhole has opened up in the San Francisco Russian Hill neighbourhood +++ Sinkhole swallows up buildings covering an area of about two acres in Russian Hill +++ Andorian embassy and the Institute for Particle Research destroyed by sinkhole +++

 

McCoy opened his eyes, blinking away the tears threatening to overwhelm him. _We didn’t even kiss goodbye this morning_ , he thought,  _I was still asleep when he left_.

 

The emergency services had begun to pull both bodies and survivors from the rubble, McCoy realized as the watched the proceedings and saw a doctor covering a person’s face with a sheet.

 

“Please,” he mumbled, “please, God let him be safe… just _please_.”

 

More and more people were brought out, some being carried, some walking by themselves. A woman with curly hair, a crying child, his dust-covered cheeks streaked with tears, an old Andorian, and then – McCoy’s heart skipped a beat – _Spock_.

 

The Vulcan was walking unassisted though with a limp, swaying slightly. As he drew closer, McCoy could see that he looked dazed and that green blood was trickling down the side of his head. Without thinking the doctor jumped the barrier in one swift movement.

 

“Sir!” the policeman protested from behind, but McCoy was already running towards Spock, relief quickening his step. He closed the distance between them and pulled Spock into a tight embrace.

 

“You’re ok,” he whispered, the tears he had managed to suppress earlier now finally flowing. “Thank God you’re ok.”

 

Spock retuned the embrace but didn’t say anything. When McCoy looked up to him, the Vulcan had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply.

 

“Are you feeling nauseous?” McCoy asked and Spock inclined his head ever so slightly.

 

“Come on,” the doctor said, carefully leading Spock over to the medics’ tent. There all the beds were taken so McCoy gently sat Spock down on a stack of supply crates and grabbed a medical scanner. The quick scan confirmed his suspicion but also heightened his relief. Except for the cut on his head and a torn ligament in his leg, Spock had only a concussion.

 

He gave the Vulcan some water to drink and pulled out his communicator to try and contact the Enterprise but was met only with static.

 

“Com channels are overloaded,” a passing nurse told him. “Do you need help?”

 

McCoy shook his head. “I’m a doctor.” He smiled at the nurse who nodded and turned to another patient.

 

McCoy took some disinfectant and cleaned the cut on Spock’s head. Then he carefully laid the uninjured side of Spock’s face onto his own chest, pressing a wad of gauze against the cut with his right hand while putting his left arm around Spock’s shoulders, his body forming a shield against the hustle and bustle of the medical tent.

 

“I guess we wait,” he mumbled softly.

 

Spock leaned into the doctor, allowing his body to relax and twining an arm around the other man’s waist. McCoy pressed his lips to the top of Spock’s head and the Vulcan closed his eyes. So they remained, oblivious to the world around them.

 

 


End file.
